Not Your Love
by This Is My Escape
Summary: His love for her was never the problem. AU. Rated M for some frisky fun with our favorite couple.


**Hello, all! I decided to participate in the DE Author-to-Author Fic Exchange again. It's my fourth year taking part! Channing pre-read and showed me where I needed to make adjustments. You're fabulous - THANK YOU. The prompt I chose is from dope_rev.**

 **Her prompt:  
**

 ** _Set after 3x14, the Mikaelson's Ball during which Elena states that Damon's love for her might be the problem. Elena realizes that this Christmas is not going to be merry at all. She finds herself alone at home on the 24th until the phone rings and an exhausted Sheriff Forbes begs her to come and pick up a drunk Damon Salvatore, who's compelled half the girls to be his playmates [not sexually, just for entertainment like dancing on the table ;)]._ _I'd like to see a cocky and tough Damon._**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!**

* * *

She finds herself alone when Christmas Eve rolls around. All of her friends - Caroline, Bonnie, Matt, Tyler - are spending the holiday with their families. Stefan and Damon are probably fighting, but more than likely together. Jeremy is in Denver. She knows he'd come home if she asked, but she doesn't want to disrupt the peace he's found by reminding him of everything he's left her to face.

Sitting on her windowsill, she tries her hand at drawing. She's never been much of an artist like her brother, but she scribbles copies of the snowflakes that are swirling outside her window. She goes to doodle her hundredth snowflake when her phone starts ringing.

 _Incoming Call: Sheriff Forbes/Mama Forbes_

"Merry Chris –"

"Elena," she speaks quickly, cutting Elena off before she can finish her festive greeting. "Listen, honey, I'm at the Grille and I need you to do me a favor."

Why does she get the feeling that Damon is not with his brother like she previously thought, but involved at the town's go-to restaurant instead?

"Damon is wasted," _there it is_ , "and he and half of the Grille's female patrons are currently grinding against each other on tabletops."

"Oh." Elena tries to imagine Damon grinding, and while that thought doesn't bother her, the thought of a bunch of hussies rubbing themselves against him _does._ She'd rather avoid actually seeing that image, so she shakes her head. "I don't know. I –"

"He won't listen to me, even with the threat of wooden bullets." She laughs shortly. "You're my reinforcement. It's Christmas Eve, so I need to be focusing my attention on other problem-makers, not on a drunken vampire." She whispers that last part. "I'd really appreciate you doing this, Elena."

She sighs heavily, and agrees to come to the rescue.

Her sketchpad is left behind.

* * *

She watches him now, doing exactly what she'd been warned he was doing. He's nuzzling the neck of a pretty redhead, his hands on her hips, rolling his pelvis against her ass.

Seeing it makes her gag.

"Welcome to the show." His blue eyes flit over to hers, never ceasing his motions, before returning to the smooth column of Red's throat. "Feel free to join us," he adds, "if you don't think it's too much of a problem, that is."

She winces, his words reminding her of the night that put them on the outs with each other.

" _I'm mad at you, because I_ love _you!"_

" _Well, maybe that's the problem!"_

She'd given that harsh response in the heat of the moment. By the time she'd realized her error, just a few moments later, it had been too late. She had already doled out her damage, and the hurt in Damon's eyes had been apparent.

Words cannot ever be taken back, only forgiven.

And Damon Salvatore wasn't the forgiving type.

Still, she hopes now that she can apologize without him shutting her down or turning her away. She'd done the same to him when he tried apologizing for force-feeding her his blood. He's not the only one who's made mistakes – she's made them, too.

"I'll pass, thanks."

When he finds her staring, unimpressed, his eyes narrow to two blue slits of contempt. "Killjoy."

"We need to talk."

"I don't. I need booze, and legs, and here I've got both." He smirks against the skin of his current dance partner, having switched to a black-haired beauty during her inner monologue.

"You stormed away from the Mikaelson's after – "

"Why would I stick around?" he responds, indignant, glancing at her briefly. "Clearly, my presence wasn't wanted. Which is fine. It's more than wanted here."

"Damon, more."

"I wanted to make things –" her apology dies when the woman moans as he trails his tongue along her collar bone. "Am I interrupting something?" she clips.

When she gives him _the look,_ he rolls his eyes and whistles at his half-naked women. Elena's eyes snap back to his, and he pauses… because the look in her eyes vaguely resembles hurt.

 _Good,_ he thinks. _Now she knows how it feels._

The women – the one in his arms, the redhead, and the other a familiar British blonde, popping up from behind the bar looking more than satisfied – stumble towards him. Rebekah seems to sober upon realizing Elena's presence and she pouts. "What the devil is she doing here?"

"Don't worry, Blondie Bex." Damon smirks. "She was just about to leave. Weren't you, Elena?"

"And leave the two of you to continue doing whatever you're doing to those poor girls?" Elena pushes past him and strides on over to their drunken women, checking each of their wrists and finding them pierced with two perfect fang marks. She looks over her shoulder to glare at Damon, who shrugs.

"Vampire," he answers, like the reason for this oh so horrible act is an obvious one. _So judgy._

"You were doing so well," she whispers. "Don't blame them for my mistake."

"Relax, they were just _dancing."_

"In their _underwear."_

"A bit too flabby to be doing so, if you ask me." Rebekah rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum can go, just don't forget to compel them to forget their little dance party, Damon. In fact, you'll need to compel the lot of them, and then we can finish what we started." She grabs a bottle of booze off the bar and sashays into the public bathroom – causing Elena to shutter at the thought of sex in a dirty bathroom stall, letting the door swing shut behind her.

"What did she mean by that? Finish what you started?" Elena's eyes are wide when Damon's find hers again. "Did you sleep with her?"

"No." She's surprised at the relief she feels, the tension deflating almost immediately. "Not tonight, anyway. Made her feel _really_ good though." He wiggles his fingers a little bit. She stifles her gag, but doesn't bother to hide her wince. "Oh, what's wrong, pouty?"

"God, Damon. I'm sorry."

His brows come together. "Don't be. I'm fine."

"You're not fine," she snaps. "I told you, I know how you get when you get hurt, Damon."

"Do you want a gold medal or something?" He gives her a look, eyeing her up and down as she seems to inch closer with their back-and-forth. He's running out of space. "I don't care."

"That's the thing though," she says sadly. " _You care too much,_ remember?"

"Fine!" he shouts, breezing around her. He's like a wild animal trapped in a corner, needing to escape. "You want to know the truth? I'm _pissed!_ Throwing my feelings for you back in my face is getting damn old."

"So you decide to soothe your pain with alcohol and nearly naked women instead of confronting me about it? The person you're truly mad at?"

"Better than flipping the switch when things get hard like Saint Stefan did!" He pauses, and tilts his head as he watches tears start welling in her eyes. Dig the knife a little deeper. Twist it a little further. "Aw," he juts his lower lip out. "Did I hit a nerve? I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm _not."_ He ducks his head to level his gaze on hers as he whispers, "Maybe he's got the right idea. I've done it before. It was a blast; I'd bet could do it again."

"No!"

"Why do you suddenly care?" he asks, his voice heavy. "Huh? Because last night you made it _crystal_ clear that you don't give a rip about me or how I feel about you."

"I didn't mean it," she cries, blurting out, "You've never _ever_ outright admitted your feelings for me!"

He scoffs, because yes, he has.

She just doesn't remember it.

"Your point?" he flashes his eyes at her.

"My point is that I got scared," she confesses. "You scared me. It was in the middle of an argument. I said what I said impulsively and when I realized just how bad it sounded… it was too late. You took off and again I was scared to face you, scared of your reaction, and I'm _sorry!_ _"_

" _But your love for me is still a problem,"_ he finishes for her, and her head shakes emphatically as she closes the distance between them.

"No, Damon. It isn't your love that's the problem." She bites her lip, the skin around her teeth turning white under the pressure before she finally says, "It's mine."

Elena watches the myriad of emotions flicker over his face: numbness, shock, disbelief, joy, and then it settles into doubt.

"Wow," he chuckles, wagging a finger at her. "You almost got me. That's an entirely new level on your bitch dial, Miss E-"

"Will you shut up, and listen to what I'm trying to tell you!" She takes a deep breath and prepares to say it, what she's wanted to say since he returned her necklace. Steeling herself and preparing for the truth to come out, she meets his eyes and is instantly swept up in their blue depths.

Before she can focus, before she can realize what's taking hold of her, she's rising on her toes and crushing her lips to his, cupping his face in her hands.

His lips are soft. That hasn't changed. Not since the deathbed kiss they shared when she'd almost had to say goodbye to him forever, not since he threw caution to the wind and finally took what he wanted on her front porch, showing her that it's what she wanted to. His mouth melts against hers, perfect in how they fit together, but she waits.

She waits for him to realize what's happening and slap her hands off his face. She waits to be pushed away and called a bitch. She waits for Damon to scream at her. She waits for all negative reactions to happen.

But they don't.

When she pulls back, she notices his eyes are closed, but he no longer looks angry. "I love you, Damon." And then they whip open, revealing two eyes as blue as the sea, shining bright, and she's nodding at the look on his face. "I do. I love you."

"Hold that thought."

He blurs over to his two table dancers and compels them to think they were up late at a frat party, and the reason they are sans clothes is because he saved them from two intoxicated morons. "Forget the rest, and leave."

"You're pathetic," a voice lilts, and they both watch as the gorgeous blonde saunters back from the bathroom, dressed in her emerald gown and looking miserable in her smeared makeup and ratted hair. "I was hoping for more fun, but never mind. You two deserve each other."

And then she's out of the bar, and they're alone.

"Did you mean it?"

Instead of being pushed away, Damon approaches her, and then his arms come around her, pulling her closer.

"You'd better mean it, Gilbert." His voice is characteristically soft. "I'm tired of playing cat-and-mouse."

"What happened to that big and tough, _fuck you very much_ persona you just had?" He can hear her heart racing a mile a minute, and he knows she's trying just as hard as he is to keep it all together.

"Yeah, well, I just found out some pretty big news that blew it all to shit." He rests his forehead against hers, breathing shakily. He runs his tongue over his lower lip. "But, that switch threat? I'm not bluffing."

"I know you aren't," she answers, caressing the side of his face. "You threatening, you even _considering_ turning it off, made me realize that I need to stop lying to myself. I'm done running. I want you."

Damon inhales deeply, breathing the scent of everything that is Elena Gilbert. Her tea tree shampoo, her lavender soap, the smell of her vanilla lotion. Opening his eyes he sees desire swirling in her chocolate ones, and he wonders how things have changed so fast, how he finally ended up with the girl he's risked his life time and again for. He lowers his head and claims her mouth, cupping the back of her head with his hand as she sinks one of hers into his hair.

And then he smells something else that is also uniquely hers.

"Elena," he says, his voice now a husky tone. "You'd better be sure about that. I won't give you up. Once I have you, you _will_ be mine."

She blushes, heat rising to her cheeks, and nods. "That sounds like a problem worth having." He tugs her closer still and she presses herself against him. He chuckles and kisses her forehead with his thumb skimming the hem of her jeans. "Please…"

"You and I are going to have a blast together, baby. But not here." She whimpers and he smirks. "Do you really want our first time to be on a dirty bar top?" She pouts, but eventually shakes her head and he laughs. "I didn't think so."

On the car ride home, she takes his hand in hers, tangling their fingers together, pulling his hand into her lap and stroking the back of his hand with her free one. Each motion sends tingles of delight up his arm, and out of his periphery, he can see her smiling. The drive back to the Boarding House is a quiet one, but that's fine.

Their night together is going to be anything but.

* * *

He lets her go inside first, he might be a dick, but he can also be a gentleman. Tonight he is the epitome of the latter. As he shuts the door behind him, he hears a soft thud. Turning around, Damon finds Elena sans blouse, in a white-laced bra, and his mouth waters.

Seeing the want that's probably written everywhere on his face, she nods, and it's the only permission needed for him to descend upon her, his fingers unclasping the delicate lingerie and his mouth enclosing one of her nipples as soon as they're freed. He pushes her up against the wall and her leg comes around his ass to pull him closer.

He sneaks a hand in between them, cupping her before dipping his fingers into her jeans, rubbing his fingers against her.

"Damon," she gasps, bucking against them. "Come on."

"Well, aren't we Little Miss Impatient?" he snickers, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth and working her, harder and faster until she's crying out his name. Somewhere, a door slams. Damon grins at her breathlessness. "I don't think we were alone."

"We are now," she pants, nipping at his lip. "So, what should we do about it?"

His smile turns wicked, and his pants suddenly tighten to an uncomfortable degree. "You're about to find out." Before she can even blink, Damon has her in his bedroom and on her back. "Are you ready for the most mind-blowing night of your life?"

Elena's eyes spark with excitement, and she leans up to kiss him. Their tongues dance together, and his lids slide shut, listening to nothing but the sound of her heartbeat -– it's his favorite sound.

He bucks against her hand when she cups him, and tsks at her playfully. "Patience, Gilbert."

"I'm done waiting," she whispers, leaning up on her elbows and locking brown with blue. "I've waited long enough."

"You and me both," he agrees, pulling off her jeans and kicking off his own. After pulling his Henley over his head, he hooks his thumbs on the sides of her panties and looks to her for one last confirmation. She nods and as he slides them down her legs, he can't help but notice how smooth they are.

He flings the undergarments behind him and hears them land somewhere near the foot of his bed, but can't take his eyes off Elena Gilbert's splayed legs. "You are stunning."

"I'm your ex's doppelganger. You've seen me before."

"Wrong," he says softly. "I haven't seen anything as gorgeous as you are in my entire life." He ducks forward and when he smells her, runs his nose over her nether lips and inhales her for the second time that night, he can no longer resist. His tongue dips out to sample her nectar and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head.

She tastes like heaven.

She jumps at the action, her hand shooting down into his hair to pull him away.

"Elena," he groans. "Don't stop me. You don't know how long I've wanted to do this."

"You don't have to do this." Her voice is shaky, her gaze heated.

"Do you want me to do this?"

She doesn't answer, which is answer enough.

"That's what I thought," he says, before burying his face in between her legs and making her cry out every expletive known to man. He takes her to the stars and when she collapses into those lush, silk pillows of his, he presses kisses to the insides of her thighs, making his way up her legs, skimming his lips along her toned torso, before kissing each rigid peak of her breasts. He hovers over her again, meshing his lips with hers and growing hard at her moan, knowing she's tasting herself on his tongue – and enjoying it. He slips his hands in between them for the second time that night, working her clit.

Gentle stroking turns into pressurized circling, sending her higher until her eyes clamp shut and her mouth drops open in a soundless scream. He continues to stimulate her, prolonging her climax as long as possible, reveling in the way she lifts her hips and rolls with him, whimpering once he starts to back off.

"Elena," he breathes against her mouth, "I need you to come one more time."

"I've never come more than once," she gulps, shaking her head. "I –"

" _You_ have never been with me before," he growls. "I'll make you come again."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He smirks. "You have no idea."

He slides into her before she can finish her sentence, but he's careful. He doesn't budge until her muscles start to loosen. He gives her time to completely adjust – he's a big boy, and he doesn't want to hurt her.

Still, she feels incredible, better than he could have ever imagined in his wildest dreams. He swallows hard with the effort it takes not to thrust, not to let his primal instincts take over and ravage her in the way his inner beast is screaming for him to. "You good?" he asks, his voice shocking him with the husky tone it's taken on.

"I'm good," she finally says, nodding quickly. She caresses the side of his face, and he leans into her touch, instantly feeling at home. His heart nearly bursts when she quietly pleads with him. "Make love to me, Damon."

And so, he does.

His hips work in tandem with hers, rolling and swirling and reaching heights neither knew existed, and when it's all said and done, they're so entwined in each other it's not clear as to whom is holding onto whom.

When their breaths finally even out, and time resumes, and Elena is wrapped up completely in Damon's embrace, she sighs. Damon glances down at her, giving her a small smile.

"What?" she whispers, snuggling into him, resting her cheek on his chest.

"Nothing," he chuckles, kissing her on top of her head. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading, & please review! **


End file.
